


Coffee vs. Tea

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coffee, F/M, Flirting, HP: EWE, Het, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Post - Deathly Hallows, Tea, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He brings her coffee. She never drinks it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee vs. Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 9/26/10.

He brings her coffee.

She eyes it suspiciously and tells him _no thanks_ as she does every day, using that saccharine tone that he's sure means that she wants to fuck him up. He leaves it on her desk anyway, walking out the door before she can offer any more protests. Wanting to fuck him up and actually taking a hand to his face - or a wand to his genitals - are two completely different things, and he knows that her reactions to this gesture always fall on the non-violent side of the spectrum.

She'll only throw glares at the cup and maybe move it aside if she needs the space for a book or stack of files, but that doesn't stop him passing by her door every hour or so, his own heap of paperwork being studiously neglected, to check if the line of the liquid goes down.

It doesn't.

"I know what you're doing," she says around noon, placing the file he'd requested on top of his desk. It obstructs his view of the parchment that he's pretending to read and he makes an indignant noise in response. "I know, and it's not going to work."

He leans back leisurely in his chair as he looks up at her, considering putting his feet up on the desk in a display of complete disregard for appropriate office behavior, just to spite her, but decides that might be overkill. "If you're irked enough to come deliver this in person" - he waves the file around and watches her cringe as the parchment bends - "just to tell me that, then it's already working."

She gives as wicked a smirk as someone who is still campaigning for house elf rights can manage and stands up straighter, hand on hip. "Please, Malfoy. We both know that if your only intention was to get on my nerves, all you would have to do is show up and exist. There's more to it than that."

There are about a thousand more things to it than that, and he waits patiently for her to begin listing them off in that scolding professor's voice that she'd probably perfected at age five, but she just stands there looking smug and he wants dearly to wipe the expression of of her face.

He sits up a little straighter and places his hands on his desk, vaguely noting that she smells rather nice when he leans forward and lowers his voice, as if sharing a secret. "Granger." His eyes drop to her lips as he says her name, and he hurriedly flicks them back up. "If I was trying to get in your pants, I wouldn't go about it using cheap muggle beverages."

Except that he would, because that's exactly what he's doing.

It's quite poor, as far as seduction techniques go, but when it comes to her, he has no idea how to otherwise go about it.

She's made visibly uncomfortable by the words, but she stands her ground commendably, only flushing slightly and tightening her grip on her hip in what he recognizes as an effort to keep from crossing her arms over her chest. The way that he makes a point to ogle her probably doesn't make it any easier. She gets ahold of herself in a matter of seconds, though, and points her chin up at him.

"Really?" she says, clearly not believing him.

"Really," he says, but there's no conviction in the word and they can both tell.

The silence hangs heavy and taut for a few long moments.

When he doesn't continue, she finally just turns on her heel, and he waits for the click, click, click of her sensible shoes on the stone floors, but it doesn't come fast enough to stop him from wanting to tell her not to leave. Fortunately, he manages to restrain himself long enough for her to sigh, then take a deep breath and speak.

"I prefer tea," she says, before quickly scuttling away.

He stares after her. He's not sure, but he thinks he may have just gotten an invitation to pull Hermione Granger into the nearest broom cupboard and have his way with her. He's not really sure, though, and by the time he regains his ability to stand, and possibly walk, she's long gone.

Instead, he waits until the next day, stopping by her office as he's done every morning for the past two weeks, a cup of coffee in hand.


End file.
